


Into the Uttered Night

by voleuse



Category: Firefly
Genre: F/M
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2006-12-16
Updated: 2006-12-16
Packaged: 2017-10-04 06:13:33
Rating: General Audiences
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 925
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/26922
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/voleuse/pseuds/voleuse
Summary: <blockquote class="userstuff">
              <p><em>Your hands quake like the leaves on the stewing water</em>.</p>
            </blockquote>





	Into the Uttered Night

**Author's Note:**

> Pre-series. Title and summary adapted from Brian Dickson's _Speak, and I Sit By You_.

Wash eyes the room, the scuffed feet of the furniture, the graying walls. Somewhere in the building, a cat yowls. The key to the room is in his pocket. He twists it against his thumb.

"How much did we have to pay for this place, again?"

Zoe brushes past him, walks to the window. She leans her shoulder against the sill and peers out, sideways.

He clears his throat. "Are we expecting an ambush of some sort?"

"Shut the door," she replies. "And be quiet."

"Okey-dokey."

She looks back at him and scowls.

*

 

Zoe looks out the window every five and a half minutes. Wash counted.

He counted because he's bored, because she won't let him fiddle with the antiquated vid screen, or call out for _dim sum_, or sing the theme song from that cereal commercial he really, really loves.

"You don't honestly think they'll find us here, do you?" He bounces on the bed, because there's no chair to sit in. Zoe is very attached to the window. "It's not like Mal keeps a roster on the ship."

Zoe twitches the curtain back again, then shakes her head. "Can't be too careful. Alliance has its claws deep here."

"In a backwater like this?" Wash tips his head back and stares at the water stains in the ceiling. At least, he hopes it was water.

If she was anybody else, Wash thinks Zoe would have sighed, right there. She doesn't, of course, but three fingers on her right hand twitch.

"Fuel," she bites out. "This planet's soaked in it."

"Ah." He counts the beats out, four minutes full. "And we thought it would be a good idea to smuggle in some chips?"

"Alliance sets the tariffs high." She shrugs. "Folk need the goods anyway."

"And maintains a healthy guard at the docks." He clicks his tongue against the roof of his mouth. "Maybe the captain should have thought about that before we took the job."

Zoe's shoulders stiffen.

She looks out the window.

*

 

Night falls. This planet is cold. Wash burrows underneath the bedspread and tries not to think about the last occupants of the room.

Zoe's stopped checking the window, but she's still leaning against the wall.

"Let me guess," Wash hazards. "During the war, you never slept."

She directs a gaze at him, unblinking and cool.

"I retract the question." He lifts his arm, the blanket billowing. "But I don't think you need to keep watch. If they haven't found us yet--"

"They'll hold the ship overnight and kick us off-planet in the morning." Zoe nods.

Wash's stomach growls. Loudly.

There's a flash of white in the shadows, and he almost misses it.

"Did you just smile?"

"Hm."

"Never thought I'd see the day."

She turns her face away from him, but he catches the second grin, all the same.

*

 

"You know, we might have to fight our way to the ship in the morning."

Light from the signs outside seeps through the window, but Wash has to strain to see Zoe's expression.

She is, to say the least, amused.

"And when I say 'we,'" he amends, "it'll be mostly you."

"It won't come to that," she says.

"But I'm scrappy," he persists. "I might surprise you."

"Maybe."

"What I'm saying is," he continues, "if we have to fight in the morning, or conduct a dangerous battle of wits, you'll need to get some rest."

"I'm resting." She raises her hand, gesturing to the empty floor around her.

"Maybe on a cushiony surface? Closing your eyes and such?"

"I'll be fine," she replies.

"If you're sure."

"Yes."

"This bed sure is comfortable. Like lying down on a flock of geese." Wash slides down the bed and stretches. "Live geese. With pointy beaks. And maybe they're a little angry. Maybe I'll join you on the floor."

"Sleep, Wash."

"Yes, ma'am."

Maybe he imagines her laughter.

*

 

He dozes off, probably, because when the mattress dips beneath him, he startles and sits up.

"Shhh." Zoe bends close, her voice a whisper. "Dawn's not for a few hours."

"Should I--"

"It's fine." She pulls the blanket over her shoulder, rolls to face away from him.

"Okay." Suddenly, he is very aware of his knees. And other things.

"Wash?"

"Yeah, Zoe?"

"Try anything, and you'll wake up without hands."

"...message received."

"Good."

*

 

He wakes when the sun hits his eyes, and Zoe yanks the blanket off the bed.

"The captain would know we've gone to ground," she says, "but they might need us now."

Wash blinks. "I slept great, thanks. You?"

Zoe tilts her head, and that's when he notices she's got a knife in her hand and a gun in her holster.

"Oh. You're serious."

She slides the knife into a sheath. "Get your boots on."

"Right." He crouches next to the bed, fumbling with his socks, his bootstraps. "I was kidding about the fighting, you know."

Zoe ties her hair back. For a second, he's distracted.

She clears her throat. "Wash?"

"Yeah?" Then he flinches. "Sorry. Captain. Battle. I remember."

She holds forth a comm unit. "Don't turn that on yet."

"Got it." He reaches for the comm, clasping it in his hand. Their fingers entangle. Her skin is warm.

She stares at him. "This wasn't--"

"I know," he interrupts, taking a step back. "Not anything. Absolutely. You're right. We should get going. Exactly."

He turns to the door, the comm clutched tightly in his hand, the last of his stutters still spilling from his mouth.

And behind him, Zoe's smile is a slow bloom.


End file.
